The battle had left the field near the gate, and Rutger slowly made his way toward the distant peaks of the Khan’s pavilion. His heart was alternating between racing and standing still, and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking. The index finger of his left hand refused to bend, and he tore a long strip of cloth off the shirt of a dead Mongol. He couldn’t get his gauntlet off, not by himself, and it would probably have to be cut free of his hand. In the meantime, all he could do was immobilize the finger as much as possible to prevent the pain from being too unbearable. He wound the cloth tightly around his hand, clenching his teeth against bursts of pain that made his hand twitch.
A pair of chargers emerged from the smoke on his right, sweeping across the field. When the riders spotted Rutger, they changed their course, heading toward him. They wore the white and black, respectively, of the Templar and Hospitaller Orders, and as they reined their animals to a stop, Rutger recognized the two Masters. “The enemy has been broken,” Emmeran called out in way of greeting. No amount of dirt and blood could completely obscure the pleased expression on his florid face. He brought his horse close to Rutger and leaned over.
Rutger took the extended hand with his left, and Emmeran had the grace to offer a compassionate nod when he caught sight of the dirty cloth wrapped around Rutger’s right hand. There was a long bloody smear down the left side of Leuthere’s surcoat, and based on the tiny rip in the white cloth, Rutger surmised the granite-faced Templar had taken an arrow to the ribs.
“They’re in a panic,” Leuthere said, “nothing more than a rabble. There is no organization to them, and unhorsed…” He shrugged, as if the fight between an armored knight and a Mongol on foot was no contest worth mentioning.
“What of Onghwe, their Khan?” Rutger asked. “Is he dead?” He waved his bandaged hand in the direction he had been heading.
Emmeran’s face lost some of its enthusiasm. “Those of the enemy who still have spirit left have fallen back to protect their master, but they will not withstand our assault for long,” he said.
“But has anyone seen him?” Rutger pressed. “Has anyone confirmed that Onghwe is even in his pavilion? If he senses the battle goes against him, he will flee. Have we accounted for all of his commanders? If any of them still live, they could be providing a cover for the Khan’s escape.”
Emmeran and Leuthere exchanged a quick glance, and Rutger felt an icy hand clutch his chest. “Who?” he demanded.
Leuthere shook his head angrily and jerked his horse’s head around. The Templar master galloped off, leaving Emmeran to answer Rutger’s question.
“The commander of the party who went to your chapter house,” Emmeran explained. “We did not find his body among those at the bridge. We suspect he made it across the river.”
“Where is he?” Rutger shouted, even as he realized the Hospitaller did not know the answer. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. If the Khan escaped and managed to flee back to the main Mongolian army at Mohi, he would return with a host many times larger than the force he had commanded at Hunern. The people of Hunern could flee, but that would only exacerbate Onghwe’s rage, and Rutger knew the Khan would pillage and burn everything until his bloodlust was satisfied.
Breaking the Mongol grip on Hunern was an impossible feat-one so very nearly in their grasp-but without the death of Onghwe, their efforts would amount to little more than waking a slumbering bear.
They might win the day, but Christendom would only be even more imperiled by their actions.
“My men are scouring the camp,” Emmeran said. “There is no way out but through the main gate. Even if some of the Mongols manage to escape, we will have weeks to hunt them down.” The Hospitaller shook his head, a grim smile on his lips. “But the Khan will not escape.”
Rutger’s chest tightened, and his throat worked heavily. “I wish I shared your faith, Master Emmeran,” he wheezed. “But I have seen too many battles that were thought won-” An icy lance of pain ripped through his upper chest, and he staggered. He tried to draw a breath, but his lungs refused to work.
“Master Rutger…” Emmeran began.
Rutger stared at his left arm. His entire body felt cold, except for his arm, which burned with such heat that he thought it would burst into flame. His legs quivered and he fell to his knees. Streaks of white light flashed across his field of vision. He stared up at the Hospitaller, trying to make sense of the shadows moving across the man’s face.
A white light bloomed behind Emmeran and his horse, and Rutger blinked, tears starting in the corners of his eyes. “No,” he croaked with the last breath in his throat. It can’t be. Don’t take me, he pleaded. I am not ready.
The light erupted, an explosion of thousands of white petals flying outward like a snowstorm falling upward, soft, downy flakes rising up to Heaven. In the center of the light, Rutger saw entwined branches and-
The exhausted heart of Tyrshammar’s quartermaster finally stopped.
Onghwe broke the momentary respite in the duel by throwing his sword at Zug. With a shout, Kim dashed forward, but the Khan fled, dashing back toward his enormous platform of pillows and furs.
Zug twisted his body, evading the well-thrown blade, though the tip of the weapon raked across his right ear. Blood began to flow, and tiny pricks of pain nipped at his skull as if he was being stung by an extremely angry and persistent hornet.
Onghwe started throwing pillows as he reached his bed, and the Flower Knight adroitly knocked the first aside with his spear, let another bounce off his chest, and ducked under a third. He kept closing on the Khan throughout, and after the third missile, he thrust his spear at the Khan’s legs. The Khan, who had been digging through the layers of furs and pillows, found what he was looking for. As he pulled his legs back, getting out of range of Kim’s attack, he twisted his body, and levered up the long pole that had been hidden beneath the opulent layers.
It was a guan do, similar to Zug’s naginata, but the blade was shorter, thicker, and had a notch and a spike along the back edge. Onghwe whipped the pole-arm around, and Kim, having some experience fighting against this weapon, knocked Onghwe’s first strike aside and thrust his own spear point over the top of the Khan’s haft. Onghwe snapped the haft around, rotating it over Kim’s thrust, and shoved the spear aside. He flicked the guan do blade, and Kim leaned back, letting the curved edge of the pole-arm blade whisk past his face.
Onghwe pressed the attack, flicking the guan do in tight circles, forcing Kim back as the Flower Knight blocked and evaded the flashing blade. Kim gave ground readily and Zug approached from the Khan’s right, flicking his own weapon at the Khan. The Khan adjusted his technique, and the blade of his guan do became a darting, flashing bird that leaped from both Zug’s and Kim’s weapons without pause. Zug was content to be patient, keeping the pressure on the Khan, knowing the other man could not keep up this incredible display of dexterity for long. Eventually he would tire.
The Khan’s blade rebounded from his naginata, slashing low toward Kim, who had started to drift closer to the Khan. The Flower Knight leaped into the air, avoiding the guan do’s blade, and at the apogee of his leap he thrust his spear forward in one hand, and the point pierced Onghwe’s shoulder.
The Khan snarled, and Kim barely got the haft of his spear up in time to block Onghwe’s counterattack. Kim landed off balance, and the Khan’s attack sent him reeling. He drew back quickly, seeking distance from the angry Khan, and he would have been in trouble if Zug had not leaped forward with a whirling slash of his own.
The Khan flicked the guan do up, catching Zug’s blade, and then slammed the blade of the guan do down, sliding it along Zug’s haft, aiming for the Nipponese man’s hands. Zug shifted his arms, twirling the naginata as he forced the guan do wide and retaliating with another stroke. Onghwe jerked his left hand up, catching the shaft of the naginata just inside the metal blade, and he responded with a similar slash of his own. Zug countered and closed the distance, letting his weapon fall back against his body. He snapped the shortened end up, smashing Onghwe on the side of the head.